


Singularity

by Dore_N



Series: The Fool, The Devil, The Wheel of Fortune, and The World [2]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical swearing, F/M, Goro Takemura POV, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, The Devil Ending (Cyberpunk 2077), V rejected the offer to be transferred into Mikoshi, Worldbuilding, exploring Cyberpunk's Japan, using lore from all over the sourcebooks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29379924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dore_N/pseuds/Dore_N
Summary: The flea-infested buildings, the cockroaches, the muck-sodden streets and the heavy air of Night City had been left behind. Gone were the restless nights when Goro slept with one eye open, ready to fill his hands with the weight of his gun and paint them in Arasaka blood. The taste of synthetic meats and questionable ingredients had almost been washed off his tongue. And how wonderful it was to hear again his native language spoken at every corner.All the pain of Night City was washed away by the blessing of being sent to Takamatsu, in the peaceful haven that was Shikoku.Sequel to 4Æm, can be read separately.
Relationships: Goro Takemura/Female V
Series: The Fool, The Devil, The Wheel of Fortune, and The World [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2109933
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Singularity

There is nothing quite similar to returning to your home country.

The flea-infested buildings, the cockroaches, the muck-sodden streets and the heavy air of Night City had been left behind. Gone were the restless nights when he slept with one eye open, ready to fill his hands with the weight of his gun and paint them in Arasaka blood. The taste of synthetic meats and questionable ingredients had almost been washed off his tongue. And how wonderful it was to hear again his native language spoken at every corner.

 _Shikoku is unlike any other island_ , Goro thought, taking a sip from his coffee.

On Hokkaido he spent his first four months as a recruit. He did not get to see much of the island at the time and was more accustomed to Sapporo and its surroundings, though they could all sense the constant tension their instructors were in - if any news, no matter how insignificant, came from the northern base of a possible Soviet squadron infiltrating the region, they would all rush to the AVs to lend their help.

Kyushu was a strange amalgam of old and new, though not dissimilar to Honshu. If one of the higher officers were not Tokyoites, then they came from the northern city of Fukuoka. The city, like any other in which the corporation had offices, had a symbiotic relationship with them: one of its largest ports was used by Arasaka, while the police force was composed of Arasaka soldiers. Its economy was thriving, its markets filled with trendy stores of clothing and cyberware, and its heart beating full of life.

Honshu was, as expected, the busiest island out of all. The Chubu region offered various corporate-run cities, with a heavy focus on the manufacture of transportation, as well as being the hub of the Kiroshi Optical. The Kansai region was an interesting mixture: with Kyoto upholding tradition, Osaka leaning more towards the Westerners, and Kobe encompassing a bit of both. As the second most populated region, it also meant that crime was abundant, and the Yakuza had found a home in Osaka. Kobe was more industrialized, being rich in factories, plants, shipyards and warehouses. And, finally, the Kanto region - the heart of Japan. A heart with a harmonious exterior, and arteries that pumped chaos. Witnessing the power struggle between Arasaka and FACS was just scratching the surface.

Yet Shikoku was nothing like them.

For all the hecticness present on the other islands, big or small, Shikoku’s sole duty seemed to remind its people that serenity could be achieved. Living in the larger cities, it was sometimes easy to forget that nature was not limited to hologram trees or carefully-curated gardens. Chiba-11 at the forefront of his earliest memories made it easy to forget that rivers could flow with clear waters and not with foul sewage. The tall skyscrapers of competing corporations made it easy to forget that they had not claimed every nook on the map.

It was peaceful.

Ever since he could remember, Shikoku had been a popular destination for many execs to relax at the onsen available - local or foreign officers, it did not matter. Some would visit Hanako’s preserve of the last surviving Japanese green pheasants. Some would come to gaze upon the standing feudal castles. Some would come here for the pilgrimage of the eighty-eight Buddhist temples. Some would simply visit for the Yosakoi summer festival. The lack of corporate projects in the region did not mean that it was devoid of offices. Kiroshi, Kenjiri, Dakai, Akagi… all had one bureau each in Matsuyama.

And he was _sent_ to the Arasaka branch in the neighboring city of Takamatsu.

The map flickered faintly and changed into a lush recording of the pheasant reserve. The low chirrups filled the atrium, as one of the birds stretched its wing lazily with a curled leg. Its iridescent feathers glistened like a brilliant panel of stained glass in the sun.

 _“It was 2024 when Hanako Arasaka took the first steps to preserve the beautiful pheasants of Japan,”_ a soothing voice announced from unseen speakers.

Goro took another sip of coffee and watched as details appeared on the wall-wide screen in close succession: the taxonomy of the birds, their numbers in the reserve, what they could donate to the reserved if they wished to help. The text disappeared and a few names scrolled leisurely on the right side of the screen. He recognised most of them as having great weight: _Yoshihisa Kainuma_ \- the leader of Mitsubishi-Sugo, _Shoji Takashi_ \- one of the board leaders of Tsunami Defense Systems, _Fumiko Miura_ \- one of the board members of Fujiwara… and at the bottom of the list, lingering for exactly five seconds longer, the name _Kei Arasaka_ was displayed, thanking him for leaving a large sum behind to finance and rescue many of the birds. It was only done as a formality to honor her deceased half-brother, as anyone who knew enough about the family would have deduced that she did not care much for him.

The images changed again to a recording of Hanako reading on a wooden bench in the open garden, as pheasants roamed around her contently.

Goro took another sip of his coffee, focusing on the grain in the bench in an attempt to evade four distinct faces, all with similar features, washing their clothes in a muddy river.

The corporation logo flashed on the screen, and a new slideshow began.

_“2067. An Arasaka bodyguard shields the Emperor of Japan from an assassin’s bullet. 2071.”_

The usual presentation given in every office.

“Takemura-san?”

He turned silently towards his left. The man bowed, and Goro gave a slightly shorter one in return.

Matsuda Renjiro, the receptionist, stood tall, dressed in a simple black suit with a thin geometric biosilk lapel. Unarmed. The tight sleeves would have made it difficult to extend any mantis blades. From beneath his white shirt’s neckband, a fully cybernetic collar covered his body up to his ears - no combative purpose. Jet hair was cut short in a fashionable fade, exposing more implants piped in red and ivory white. His eyes, a model of Kiroshi that covered the sclera in a forest-green color and the iris in lilac, told him all that he needed to know.

Nonetheless, he raised an eyebrow towards him to continue.

“Arasaka-sama will see you now,” he voiced what he already knew.

Goro placed his coffee cup on the tray next to him, whose sensors promptly measured the liquid content and deemed that it should be disposed of. He mechanically rubbed his hands, in an attempt to steady his nerves, thanked Renjiro and made his way with purposeful steps across the atrium towards the elevators.

The office was quiet compared to the Tokyo branch, which was what he was most used to. There, an unending stream of hurried employees would ebb and flow in a tightly organised chaos, attending to their various responsibilities. The great hall was always brimming with people, voices and languages murmuring and sibilating over the speakers’ announcements. It was impossible to remember each of their names, and he always relied on the company database and his optical implants to bring him an analysis of the person he would talk to.

Here, however, things were much simpler. Matsuda changed Hirano at lunch time, Nomura and Sakurai were guarding the entrance, and Ando and Morita joined Ishida for a quick meeting. All the other agents were sprawled over Takamatsu and Matsuyama. Only the two young soldiers wore HJKE-11 Yukimura smart pistols. It took less than a day for him to learn everything there was to know about the office, and the schedule was reconfirmed at every subsequent visit to the branch.

It was... peaceful.

Which was all the more curious why he had been sent here.

He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the 5th floor. The control panel was piped in matte gold, a thin line against the simple deep charcoal background. The smoky and lemony scent of hinoki cypress enveloped his senses like a distant memory, being a touch more pronounced here than in the rest of the building.

He drew a deep inhale and proceeded to fix his clothing: dusted his shoulders, the front of his black haori jacket, straightened his red belt, and checked that his shirt’s lines properly aligned with the jacket’s trim. The outfit was the standard of any Arasaka bodyguard, and even more so for someone who served directly under Saburo. He traced with his eyes the subtle pattern in the sleeves’ fabric. Although he was not to wear the same tactical armor that the soldiers, the cyberninjas or some of the special agents wore, his suit still announced to any wizened eye that it was the only armor that he needed. With a weave stylized after the Kikko designs, it was the modern interpretation of the hexagonal plates that the samurai or ashigaru of feudal Japan would have worn. Of course, a similarly shaped mesh had been implanted under his skin, though that was a regular procedure done for any soldier.

It was a symbol of pride and skill among the troops, reaching further than the title of his role would.

The end of his journey was marked by a short _ding_.

A hallway stretched ahead of him. Painted in a similar fashion as the elevator in dark and golden tones, it was much shorter than what he was used to from the Tokyo tower. With his mind’s eye, he saw ghosts of sliding doors to offices framed by glass, the faint lines of potted holograms of cherry blossom bonsai trees, and stairs leading to an upper level. Reality was much more plain, with only two enclosed rooms to decorate the charcoal walls.

He pressed forward, and reached Saburo’s office.

With confident steps, he approached the large angular table that throned in the middle of the room. His eyes dashed from one corner to the other, surveying every shadowed nook. He knew the office inside-out, as it was the exact replica of the one in the Arasaka Tower in Tokyo, in Night City, in every location that the corporation had a branch in. Just how Saburo had to be able to navigate it with his eyes closed, so did he, to quickly eliminate any threat and allow the smooth operation of business without any more interruptions. The room itself showed an understated grandeur compared to the rest of the building, not through the palette or its sheer size, but through the expensive materials used and the craftsmanship with which they had been cut and reshaped. Golden neon lights elegantly framed the walls and floor.

He assumed a relaxed stance, and watched as a hologram caught shape beyond the desk.

He inhaled sharply.

There should have been no surprise as, of course, he knew what the aftermath of storming the tower in Night City was. It was not the first time he would talk to Saburo as the orders of relocation had come directly from him, and neither was the first time to see him after his resurrection, as televised appearances had ravaged both Japanese and American news channels. And yet it was no less startling to see Yorinobu where Saburo should have stood. Dressed in his formal kimono, he was turned towards the immense window that covered the entirety of the wall ahead. Not many buildings as tall as the Tower in Takamatsu, and from there the city opened for the sharp eye of the Arasaka head. Bathed in the warm tones of dusk, it almost seemed like an extension of the office.

Although it was Yorinobu’s shell, it still carried Saburo’s spirit, and Goro knew all too well what precisely caught his interest.

He was projecting from the Tokyo office, which was near the top of the Tower in the Chuo ward, surrounded by the buildings of other megacorporations. The glass through which he scrutinized the busy people below was only an illusion, as from the outside it simply looked like a solid, impenetrable wall. From the position he was in, Goro could tell that he was watching the flickering logo of the Kendachi building.

“Arasaka-sama,” Goro finally announced his presence, with a deep bow which he held for a few seconds.

The young body did not flinch nor turn to face him, and continued to observe the sprawled Tokyo beneath him.

“Nova. Kajiya. Hiyari. Light-20. What do these names have in common?”

It was Yorinobu’s voice, yet it had the smooth and low cadence of Saburo, that rang with confidence and the unshakeable feeling that it was preparing to move pieces along a chessboard. A faint shudder raised the hairs at the back of his head.

Despite the foreign apparition, the discussion was familiar.

“They are all armaments manufactured by divisions of Arasaka, Setsuko and Barrett.”

He saw Yor- _Saburo_ ’s head nod almost imperceptibly, only caught by the fuzziness in the hologram’s blue outline.

“Do you know why these two had become divisions?”

The answer came as naturally to him as a well-rehearsed poem.

“They would have not made it even as companies in the keiretsu system.”

“Which is not the case for Kendachi, Sternmeyer, or any other of our affiliations,” Saburo continued, with a heavy tone and a lilt that almost begged for the statement to be followed by _‘not yet’_.

The hologram turned and slowly strolled towards the chair and sat in it, aligned so painstakingly perfectly to the one in his current office that it seemed as if it was a part of the projection.

Yorinobu’s hands were placed onto the table, fingers interlaced with a movement hauntingly characteristic to his fathers’.

“Do you know why you were sent to Takamatsu?”

“No, Arasaka-sama.”

“ _What is perfect requires no change_ , yet our hand is forced. Children, seeking to move pieces that do not belong to them. A tip has come in that Kendachi is to become the new armaments division of a megacorporation. You will find out which one wants to break the established order.”

Goro swallowed.

“Arasaka-sama… I… I cannot help but note that the counter intel division would be better suited to deal with this task.”

Saburo leaned into the back of his chair.

“Unexpected feats does the mind achieve when presented with a critical task. So did you at the Dashi Parade.”

With Saburo’s eyes pinning him, he had no room to show worry wash over his features. He gave a curt nod, to mask a sharp inhale. The parade, of course, referred to the kidnapping of Hanako. It was not what he expected to hear, as in all his years as a bodyguard he had been inseparable from Saburo. He had not even entertained the thought that this could have been a long-term departure from his usual activities.

“Am I to only assess the Shikoku branches?” he asked in a steady voice.

“You are. You have served Arasaka well, and this is how I have chosen to compensate you.”

His eyes shot up towards the hologram, unable to hide his confusion.

“Consider this the beginning of a new age, marked by a final mission. You have been transferred to the Special Agents division, and have been relieved of your duties in the Family Compound. Nature. Tradition. Serenity. This is why I have chosen Takamatsu for you.”

A knot tightened in his throat, constricting over every argument that fought to surface. No matter how unexpected this all was, there was no use in arguing with Saburo now.

He had been quicker to expect to die as a bodyguard.

“A-Arasaka-sama…” he began, unravelling the knot. “I am at your disposal should you choose to reinstate my duties.”

Goro concluded with a deep bow. By the time he straightened his back, the hologram disappeared in a flash of scintillating particles.

***

No time was spared in following the given orders.

The next day was started like any other: rejuvenated and focused, ready to start his task no matter how strange and foreign he felt in his new role. The narrow beams supporting a bamboo board of the saobuchi ceiling still greeted him in the early hours of the morning, away as he was from the Arasaka Family Compound. The futon was still soft and inviting, and the submachine gun was still within reach.

At his core he was still a soldier, no matter how many changes his title went through. He continued following his regime of exercising his mental and physical strength. He never did rely only on his implants, and his experience in Night City had made it even more apparent how this had been the right decision - implants can fail, they can be deactivated, but his flesh and muscle only depended on himself.

The trips to Matsuyama were shaping up to become frequent. On the first day, Goro chose to trail a Kiroshi employee on his day off - which took him, on a lovely trip around the city and introduced him to an astonishing park and an excellent restaurant, but nothing that could be used to infiltrate the corporation. The next day, he tried his luck with Dakai, observing the building’s inner garden for the comings and goings of their execs. On the third day he documented himself on the internal intel for Kenjiri and Akagi.

Whispers, murmurs, shadows of ideas was all he could find over the course of a week.

It felt as effective as attempting to catch slivers of smoke with a seine.

But he reminded himself that Takamatsu was beautiful and serene, and exactly what Saburo wished for him to experience.

The days yet slogged along.

It was always the same song and dance, with small changes to the routine. Wake up. Exercise with weights or pull-ups on a bar. Have breakfast, sometimes consisting of steamed rice and raw egg, homemade miso soup, and other times a bowl or aromatic natto, topped with seasoned seaweed. Try to find something of value among all the fractured conversations he managed to intercept. Have a drink at the nearby izakaya, and finish the day uneventfully and unceremoniously.

There had not been many moments in his life when he had felt alone.

His family was numerous and he was constantly accompanying one of his older brothers. His friends group was as large as it could be, as children of all ages were united by the harsh conditions of the Chiba-11 ward. As a recruit and soldier, he never had a moment solely for himself, as they were always crammed together into the same rooms. As a bodyguard, he was perpetually in the company of Saburo, of other guards, or of initiates, as he would often take the role of the mentor.

Tetsuya, Ayako, Oda, Seichi, to name a few…

All his friends were, understandably, unreachable.

Neither had he felt alone in Night City, stripped as he had been of his title, dignity and all that he had worked for his entire life.

And it was all because of _her_.

Sweet, bewildering Valerie, who took his world by storm and never ceased to surprise him. Be it through her fearless combative strategies, unique and hazardous altogether, her fiery and headstrong determination, or…

Her beauty, captivating and disarming. Radiant she was, serenely sleeping next to him, bathed in the soft midday sunlight peeking through the blinds above her bed. Her bare skin was only covered by tattoos and tan lines, the RealSkin finish of her implants faintly glimmering with a grainy sheen.

He had brushed the back of his finger over her shoulder. She shivered under the trace of the tickle, and shifted closer to him, pressing her cheek onto his chest. Her soft hair was ablaze in a cold flame, shining with a cobalt glow in the sunlight. He trailed a touch as gently as he could over the outline of her body, from thigh to waist to clavicle, settling by burying his fingers into her hair.

There was no tell of the hardships she had faced alone the hours prior to that moment in the scavenger den, with the Relic telling her that her days were numbered. All _he_ could do was hold her tightly.

Valerie was strong.

She was strong even as her knees gave in as they alighted from the AV at the Arasaka Tower. A sharp stab pierced his heart when he saw her splayed onto the ground, disoriented and unmoored under the scrutinizing gaze of Hanako, Hellman and the loyal soldiers. All he could do was give her his hand and help her back onto her feet.

She was strong even as she dodged bullets uncharacteristically awkwardly, stumbling upon her feet as the Relic broke her balance and concentration, eventually pushing her to ask for a quieter approach. All he could do was follow, and hope that his bullets would reach the enemy before they would spot her.

Even as they battled the shell of a human that was Adam Smasher, and she lumbered behind pillars to gain a moment of breathing and sluggishly reload her rifle. All he could do was throw himself at Smasher, and hope that the bastard would find him to be a better target.

Even as she woke frail in the orbital station’s bed, trembling from hurt, frustration and confusion. _And all he could do_ was hope that she would accept the offer made by Arasaka... one that he relentlessly asked for them to find.

Valerie didn’t. She left the station without looking back.

All of his promises amounted to nothing in the end.

His finger froze above her name on the phone screen.

Nevertheless, a new day awaited.

He woke, he exercised, he cooked himself breakfast and lunch. He had been tipped off a schedule for a Dakai officer, and he set himself onto the winding path. It took him across the towns, from Matsuyama to Takamatsu, but other than an unassuming quietness he found nothing. Getting accustomed to the city was awkward, though he found that he was starting to warm up to the lack of constant road noises.

A new dawn. A new day.

He woke up with no time to work out or eat, as he was meeting with another Arasaka officer, Morita, to try and make an acquaintance. Although no useful details were gathered for his mission, he did receive a list of locations for sightseeing. Splendid shrine and castle, a breathtaking open air museum and a multitude of parks.

Oda was still unreachable, but Goro knew that he was still working as a bodyguard for Hanako.

The next day he only exercised with his weights. He took up Morita’s suggestion of trying out a local restaurant for his breakfast. As he had nothing else planned, he took a stroll to enjoy the peaceful serenity of Takamatsu. The sweet and heady fragrance of lotus flowers enveloped his senses as he chose to relax in a park. The lush pond was glimmering in the sun, and the trees were gently swaying in a zephyr. In the eve, he ordered himself a highball from the izakaya he had become a regular at.

By the end of the week, he had ditched his austere clothing, relaxed his routine and started visiting more and more of the Kagawa prefecture. He ventured further from Takamatsu, seeking the stunning vistas that Morita had suggested.

Saburo was right. Shikoku was indeed idyllic. A beautiful island, an enclave of tranquility among the turbulence of the country.

It was… _too_ peaceful.

A tranquility that numbed his senses and broke his focus, with an imperceptible subtlety in its diversion.

Like a pheasant in Hanako’s reserve he was set to remain on the island, in a perpetual fabricated dream. He could still fight, he was still loyal to Arasaka, giving up on his deep affection for Valerie. The corporation appeared stronger than ever, yet it could not find a way to repay her in full. Oda was still a bodyguard, Hellman was reinstated as a Relic program researcher. Out of all the times Saburo could have replaced him in the past, _this_ was the moment he had deemed as necessary.

He would have been loyal until the day he died, and he had been rewarded by being caged in an empty chase.

_Something is not adding up._

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thank you for stopping by and reading! ❤
> 
> If you are interested in reading more about Valerie and Goro's relationship pre-Devil ending, you can read more about it in the prequel [4Æm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28180230/chapters/69052659), written from Valerie's POV. I will be cross-referencing relevant scenes or pieces of dialogue here together with the context, so reading the prequel is not a requirement for understanding the events of this fic.


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